The Worst Name Day
by GitUrCray-On
Summary: Short one-shot of Brienne's POV; could be read alongside Something Greater or alone. I own nothing, I'm just a Brienne-fan.


*Obviously, I'm a Brienne-fan and this is way more fun than graduate studies… oh, and I own nothing.*

Brienne stared at the ceiling above her bed for several minutes before sighing heavily and sitting up; it had been the worst name day ever and she'd had some doozies in her fifteen years. Her first name day, she'd run after Galladon and wound up mouth first on a large rock, splitting her lip so severely the Maester was summoned. On her third name day, she'd nearly drowned when Galladon knocked her headfirst into the watering trough. Her seventh name day, she'd fought with the tanner's son… between them they'd had three black eyes and five missing teeth when they were pulled apart. Her eighth name day was only a few days after Galladon was swept away by the sea, only twelve himself and the grief was too great to even consider celebrations. Her thirteenth name day, her Septa had cornered her for hours to regale her with the horrors of womanhood, Brienne slept on her stomach for a whole year after that hoping to keep her bosom from blossoming.

But this one was especially heinous. First, she'd woken to one of the womanly horrors her Septa warned her of, a bright red blood stain. Brienne had groaned, _Septa will be so pleased._ For nigh on two years it was the first question Brienne was greeted with each day and each day she'd had to deny flowering Septa was quick to point out how abnormal she was and how would she ever find a husband if she couldn't bear children. She groaned again when she was confronted with the sapphire blue gown hanging at her vanity, her brushes and combs laid out and ready for Septa and her maids to torture her with… that is, if they could get past the barricade at her chamber door. Brienne grinned in spite of her blood-stained nightgown, she'd bolted her door the night before and dragged the heavy chest of drawers over for extra protection against her father's plans. She pulled the nightgown over her head and tossed it in a ball in the corner before tugging on her preferred garb of breeches, tunic, and boots. The only drawback to no one being able to enter her chambers, was that she could not exit her chambers.

Brienne was contemplating the best way to fashion and anchor a bedsheet rope to escape out the window when her door began to rattle. _Brienne! Open this door at once! _She declined, vehemently. If they wanted her, they could come in and get her… and they did. Her father and five of his men shoved the door open enough for her Septa and maids to rush in and swarm over her, the first thing Septa did was notice the blood now on her breeches and scold her for being too stupid to manage her own blood. She was stuffed unceremoniously into the gown, then powdered and dabbed and dolloped until she didn't recognize her own face, and, finally braided and pinned till she looked like a very large child playing with her mother's fancy featherings. _Trying to turn an ugly duckling into a swan._ The actual result was an ugly duckling turned into a silly goose and Brienne refused to join the young lords in the hall.

As her father dragged her along, she protested down the corridor and pleaded down the staircase and, finally, tried to bargain as Lord Selwyn hauled her into the ballroom. Brienne paused at the sight of the guests her father had invited and battled to gather her dignity. To her surprise, it wasn't terrible, it was wonderful, really. All the boys shoved each other in turn just to dance with her, they twirled her around the room and begged her to marry them and promised her castles. She caught her father's eye at one point and saw his pleased smile, she offered him a happy grin of her own. She was so happy… and so dreadfully foolish. It happened out of nowhere, a couple of sniggers and then seemed to lose control as the lords erupted, unable to keep the joke going anymore. _Brienne the Beauty… mule-faced… freckled… so ugly. _Her head buzzed and she was horrified to feel her eyes welling with tears, Brienne stared at her feet as the realization settled over her that she truly was the ugliest girl alive.

_Words are wind… words are wind… words… _She grasped desperately at the words her father often repeated, the mantra had become a sort of prayer. Still studying her feet, Brienne felt a hand around her own and glanced up into the face of Renly Baratheon. _Don't let them see your tears. _He spun her around so she could gather herself and continued to spin her for dance after dance. The other boys couldn't say another nasty word, they knew better than to jape at King Robert's brother. Those whose families weren't sworn to the Baratheons were sworn to the Lannisters, and Robert had recently married Cersei Lannister. Even in their youth, they knew the possible outcome of speaking against the crown, or the family of the crown. Brienne knew it was foolish but she quickly found herself helpless in love with the sweet-faced Renly, despite reality telling her he didn't want nor fancy her and never would, it didn't matter.

Finally, she could take her leave and did so without hesitating. Brienne kicked off her shoes on the staircase when she fell hard on her knees and piled the furniture in front of her chamber door this time. She plucked a thread loose from the gown and pulled, creating a small hole that she poked a finger into and made larger until she could grip enough to start ripping. She threw the shreds from her window and when she was standing in just her small clothes she slipped the dagger from under her mattress and went to work on her hair. Lock upon lock of blond curls fell around her feet until she was satisfied with the short, choppy strands that remained. She caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror, blood-stained small clothes, skinny body, mule-faced, freckled freak and she let the tears fall.

Brienne woke late the next morning, usually she was up with the first pinkish streaks across the sky. Her face felt tight with the evidence of her self-pity the night before and splashed her face with water from her basin before dressing quickly. She moved the furniture in front of her door as quietly as possible and peeked out into the corridor. Her way was clear and she ran with her boots in hand to the stables… that's where her father found her, bare-footed, still holding her boots and gaping like a fish out of water at the sword and belt around one of the posts at her mare's stall. _I think it's time, Brienne. If you're going to fight, you might as well learn to do it right. _


End file.
